


Tony Stark is Obviously, Definitely, not Sick

by daydreamer_80303



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Helpful Peter Parker, One Shot, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, Sick Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 06:23:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamer_80303/pseuds/daydreamer_80303
Summary: Tony gets sick on the morning of a weekend with Peter. Cue precious, helpful Peter helping Tony feel better.





	Tony Stark is Obviously, Definitely, not Sick

**Author's Note:**

> hey!  
so i decided to put a flip on the usual sickfics...usually it's peter getting sick, but i thought that tony hardly gets to be looked after so that's how i got this idea!  
i tried to keep it light and fluffy. warning: attempts at humor.  
kudos and comments are really really appreciated!!!! also, check our my works for my (one) other fic. it's a work in progress.  
love,  
daydreamer_80303

Tony buttered toast and sipped his coffee miserably. Today was definitely not a good day. He’d woken up with a pounding headache, and a weird, nauseous feeling he hadn’t felt since his college binge drinking days. He figured it was just the late nights—Tony Stark didn’t get sick. 

Pepper walked up to the breakfast bar and poured herself some green tea. 

“Morning sweetheart.” She said, looking him over. “Wow. You look horrible.”

“Blame DUM-E.” He responded, pouring himself more coffee in a vain attempt to ward off the headache, which wasn’t getting any better.

“DUM-E has nothing to do with the fact that you probably have a fever.” Pepper said back, placing a cool hand on his forehead. Wow. That felt good. He leaned into the touch, and whined when she pulled away. 

“You should probably go back to bed for a few hours, Tony. Sleeping a little more will help.” She advised, picking up a croissant. “Are you sure you’re fine alone? I can skip out on these meetings, I can always go later.”

“No, no, you need to be there. I’m a self-sustaining man, Pep. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Says the man who set himself on fire trying to make waffles day before.”

“Hmph. That was the machine’s fault! You know what I mean. Pep. I’ll be fine. Really.”

“I know you just want this weekend for yourself and Peter.” Pepper said, finishing her croissant and picking up another one for the car. Kissing him on the forehead, she grabbed an airbag on her way out. “Have fun, Tony. Please, don’t overdo it. And for heaven’s sake, a paracetamol won’t kill you.”

“I’ll call you!” He said back. 

“Say hi to Peter for me. And try not to traumatize him too much, will you?”

He rolled his eyes, and she left, leaving him to his own devices. Usually, he would’ve been delighted to jump headfirst into his work, sans Pepper periodically yelling at him to eat and sleep, but now he just felt disgusting. He figured taking Pepper’s advice on sleeping for a couple more hours wouldn’t be bad, and he headed towards his bedroom. 

*

Four hours later, he woke up sweating, feeling even worse than he did before. The Universe was screwing him over. So many times he’d ignored his fiancée’s advice before realizing that if he’d followed it he would’ve been better off, but the one time he took it, he ended off worse than before. Classic bad luck. If Peter were there, he’d call it the infamous Parker luck. 

“Time, FRI?” He asked, voice croaky. 

“It is 3:15 PM, boss. Peter should be arriving in 15 minutes.” Fuck. Peter. He couldn’t be sick today, of all days. Five days ago he’d promised one anxious May Parker that he’d take care of her kid while she was away at some medical conference for a week. To both his and Peter’s delight, the kid had a long weekend from Saturday to Tuesday, so they’d planned tons of fun science activities to do while Pepper and May were away. Damn it. 

“Cool. Thanks, baby.” 

“Boss, are you sure you’re well enough to host Peter for the weekend? You seem to have a slight temperature. 99 degrees Celsius to be exact.”

“Don’t meddle, FRI. I’m fine. It’s only a 99. I’ll just take some cough syrup or something.”

“If you’re sure,” FRIDAY sounded skeptical. Ugh. Even his own AI was turning against him. 

He was right back at the breakfast bar when he heard fast, bounding footsteps which he’d learnt to associate with Peter.

“Hey, Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark! You won’t believe what happened in class today. So Ned and I, we—Oh. Are you OK, Mr. Stark?” Peter must’ve stopped his mile-a-minute monologue when he’d seen Tony’s face. He clutched his small airbag closer to him.

“’Course, kid. I’m great.” He managed. “What’s new with you and Ted now?”

“No, Mr. Stark, you need to go to bed or something. You look really bad.” Peter said. “I don’t think you’re OK.”

“God, you’re as bad as Pepper.” Tony retorted. 

“Ms. Potts said you were sick? Then you’re definitely sick, Mr. Stark.” 

“So what, Pep’s word is the truth now? What happened to the loyalty?” Apparently that was too long of a sentence to attempt because he started coughing again. He was pretty sure he’d sounded like a whale in labor, judging from Peter’s horrified expression. 

“Oh my god, Mr. Stark.” Peter put down the bag. “You sound terrible, too. Did you sleep? Should I go? Yeah, maybe you need to just, you know, rest for a couple days.”

“What? No!” Tony was sure that he’d said those exact words to Peter about a thousand times in their short one year of knowing each other. “I promised Aunt Hottie I’d baby-sit for the weekend, and Tony Stark does not take back promises.”

Peter looked torn between wanting to run away and wanting to wrestle Tony into the closest bed. “Oh yeah? What else does Tony Stark do?”

“Tony Stark watches Spider-Babies’ butts. And Tony Stark is definitely, obviously, not sick.” Tony finished before coughing again. OK. Maybe not that last part. His head was still hurting, and his throat was itching. 

“OK. I’ll stay. But Mr. Stark, you have to sleep.” Peter said. 

“I literally just woke up, kid. Ask FRIDAY for proof.” The kid actually looked up before deciding against it. 

“Well, May always lets me watch movies and drink soup when I get sick. Actually, when I used to get sick; I don’t really get sick anymore. The point is, do you, um, wanna do that? Watch a movie?”

Tony considered it. As much as he wanted to give Peter his promised lab-time, Tony’s bones felt like they were made of iron. And not in the good, superhero way. “That sounds great, kid. Should I pick? Or do you want to?”

“Duh, you. It’s your movie. I’m just gonna be, like, doing homework or something.”

“What? No!” Aaaaah, there it was again. “Kid, I’m not gonna watch a movie without you. That’s mentor-mentee sacrilege.”

Peter looked up at him, his doe-eyes filled with a mixture of hope and happiness. “You wanna watch a movie with me?”

Tony simply gestured to the couch, and proceeded to walk towards it. Peter headed towards the guest (practically his) room to put away his stuff and change into something more comfy. Tony simply waited him to return, shivering a little. Maybe the fever had increased?

Peter, however, had different plans. He walked in, arms piled high with what Happy would call ‘sick people kits’. Unloading the pile, Peter pulled out blankets, mints, biscuits, paracetamol, a bottle of water, and a steaming mug of tea. Not saying a word, he scurried out again, this time returning with soda and a bag of Doritos, presumably for him.  
Then, he proceeded to solemnly swaddle Tony in two soft blankets until Tony’s usually (hopefully) muscular form resembled a breakfast burrito. Tony wanted to laugh or make a snarky remark, but god, he felt so gloriously warm. Then, Peter handed him the mug of tea, and finally settled on the other side of the couch, pulling his knees in close.

“You done, mom?” Tony joked, but he was secretly glad the kid cared enough to actually take care of a sick Tony. He usually never let even Pepper worry about him, but something about having Peter worry was something different. “Where’d you get all this stuff anyways? I didn’t even know we had mints.”

Peter was blushing. “I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Stark. I asked FRIDAY, she said your temperature was at a 100 degrees Celsius and recommended all this stuff. The mints were mine. I just thought you might want them, since you liked the one I gave you last week.” 

Tony felt oddly touched that Peter had remembered that he liked a mint, for heaven’s sake. The world needed more people like Peter Benjamin Parker. And to make it even better—

“I also ordered soup from your favorite deli. You like chicken, right?”

“Love it. That’s perfect, kid. Thank you so much.” In response, his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t had anything that day except coffee in the morning. Peter looked like he wanted to laugh. 

In the end, they picked Brooklyn 99. Tony was far too tired to argue anyways. The kid loved the show, and he let it run in the background as he slowly fell asleep. After that, he didn’t remember anything until he felt a finger tentatively poking his shoulder.

“Hmpfh?” He said. He hoped that conveyed his thoughts. Apparently it didn’t.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter sounded like he hoped Tony wouldn’t explode. It reminded Tony of when Peter had addressed DUM-E for the first time. Coherent. Focus on being coherent.

“Time is it?”

“6:00, Mr. Stark. Your food came. The soup?”

Tony sat up, rubbing his eyes. He’d never slept this much in a day before. But he guessed it was worth it, because his full blown headache had dissolved into a slight throb. Peter handed him the soup, which he’d had the sense to pour into a bowl to make it easier on Tony and his throat. Again, he felt touched. This kid. He really thought of everything, didn’t he?

“Thanks, Peter.” He said, trying to put as much emotion in his voice as he could. “Really. You didn’t have to.”

“No problem, Mr. Stark. You just feel better. FRIDAY says you’re supposed to take another tablet after you drink this.”

Tony nodded and started to sip at the soup. The blissful warmth of the chicken soup soothed his throat, and he felt the life seep back into his bones. He actually moaned in ecstasy, and Peter shot him a weird look, before hiding his smile behind his phone. 

“Hush, kid. You get a fever and lets see how you handle it.”

Peter spluttered. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Mr. Stark.” He said, and Tony had a terrible flashback of the morning. 

“Yeah. You say that thinking it’s true and then you’re humiliating yourself in the worst way possible.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re picking up on my sass, kid. Don’t let Aunt Hottie hear you say that, or I’m never gonna hear the end of it. Actually, while we’re on that topic, don’t let Pepper hear again. I’ve been trying to convince her that I’m a good role model for impressionable kids like you.”

“I can see you’re feeling better.” Peter conveniently ignored all his previous statements. Classic Tony behavior. God, he loved this kid. He made a mental note to tell him that. 

“Better enough for some good Brooklyn 99. What season are we on?”

“Four.”

“And kid?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here. You’re sitting way too far for comfort. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you remember? I can’t see you from this angle.”

Peter looked at him hesitantly for a moment. “Tony Stark does not take back promises,” He mused, before scooting a little closer and leaning slightly on Tony’s arm, a small smile gracing his lips. 

Tony, however, didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, giving him some of the blanket. (To be fair, it was an amazing blanket.) Peter snuggled in closer, this time putting all his weight on Tony in such a way that they were tangled in some sort of blanket knot. Tony didn’t mind. On the contrary, he’d never felt so at ease with anyone except Pepper. 

They sat like this for about four episodes, Peter pointing out the similarities between MJ and Rosa (“Mr. Stark, they’re both so deadly smart and independent, it’s awesome. You’d love MJ.”) and laughing at all the name of your sex tape jokes. Tony had never felt so…light. He loved it. 

“So, kid, what do you think the next Pontiac Bandit episode’s gonna be?”

No response. 

“Kid?”

Peter was fast asleep in the crook of his arm, sleep making his face look so much younger than it actually was. Tony almost cooed, and didn’t have the heart to wake him up. Instead, he chose to run his fingers through Peter’s silky hair. 

“Good night, kid.”

“’Ight M’ Stark,” Peter replied, sleep riddled. “Love you.”

Tony could’ve jumped up and down right there if he wasn’t sick. “Love you too, kid.”

*

Tony was much better the next morning. FRIDAY informed him that he was the just latest victim of the flu going around, and not susceptible to cancer as he'd previously feared. Sue him. Tony hated germs. After folding up the blankets, Peter and Tony got the lab days they were so looking forward to. Tony didn’t mind the one sick day, though. Flu or not, a cuddle with his teenager was always worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> i LOVE brooklyn 99. sue me.


End file.
